We've Come So Far
by ShannonxTyler
Summary: What's it going to take for them to realize that's it's been them all along? It's always been them. They've come so far. Now it's time for them to realize that it's their turn to get it right. Together.


It's weird. He's a high school graduate now. He actually fucking did it. To everyone's surprise he walked across that stage and got his diploma. And it felt good as hell, too. Especially the look on his Ma's face, it just made all this shit more real.

And now he's talking with his friends as the chaos slows down. Fuck, these kids are his _friends_. Not the guys he played football with throughout high school, but the kids from the club he once thought was gay and stupid.

Him and Mike were talking about getting together over winter break. He's leaving this weekend for California with Tina. He's got to give them credit, they've lasted this long and they're not stopping just 'cause they got into different schools. Granted, Los Angeles and San Fransisco weren't all that far away. They're still gonna be in the same state.

Quinn's going who knows where, and frankly, he doesn't care. He stopped caring when it came to her sophomore year. It took him all year to realize all she's ever gonna do was bring him down, and he didn't need that shit.

But by the looks of it, she's staying here with Finn. And that's only by the way she's hanging all over him right now while Rachel's talking to them. And he swears he could see the pain in her eyes, even though she's mastered the fake smile since the slushies started freshmen year.

He remembers that look way too fucking well. And he wished he never had to see it. The only thing flashing through his mind right now was picking up the pieces of the nasty break up that followed.

It's Finn's fault. He's a fucking douche. Like, seriously. Did he really have to go and prove that third time is the charm? 'Cause that's fucking low. Why couldn't he just break up with her before he went behind her back and fucked Fabray.

He was just relieved when Rachel finally realized that he wasn't worth it and said no to him the next time Frankenteen came running back to her. It was bullshit, his apologies, and she knew it. Which is why he was enjoying the view of her walking away from him, leaving Finn with a defeated look on his face.

Fuck, yeah. That's his girl. Well, not really. But, you know what he means.

It also wasn't surprising that less than a week later he was back together with Fabray. Typical douche bag.

Everyone else is leaving, to who knows where, he could care less. All he's concerned with is the fact in two weeks he's going to be on a bus going to New York.

Nobody knows, just his family. Nobody's asked him, so why should he tell them? He just can't wait to get the fuck out of here.

He's walking towards where his mom and sister were standing, talking to Rachel's dads, when a small figure stops in front of him. And he doesn't really have a chance to question what the hell she's doing before she practically launches herself into his arms. That earned a chuckle from him.

"I'm so proud of you, Noah," She says to him, just above a whisper.

And, fuck. That felt good. No one's ever said that to him besides his mom. He wasn't expecting it either.

He just flashes her a smile and walks over to where their families are standing, glancing over at her as she takes her place at her dads' sides. They congratulate him and that feels fucking good too. But not as good as when Rachel said it to him. He's sure nothing can beat that.

They say their goodbyes, his mom and her dads confirming their plans for dinner that evening while his sister's staying with his Nana.

He threw Rachel a wink before turning around, almost running straight into Santana. He didn't miss the slight blush that crept across her cheeks from the playful gesture. It happened every time.

"Fuck," He says, happy to see that his mom and sister were near the car and didn't hear him. "What do you want, Lopez?"

There was this look in her eyes and he didn't like it. At all. She was up to something.

See, that's the thing with him and Santana. They fucked around freshmen year and most of sophomore year, but they're _bro's_. Which most people find fucked up with the history they have, but whatever. She's, like, one of three people he can really count on. Plus, it's not like they're getting together anytime soon. She's with Brittany. About fucking time too.

He's watching Rachel climb into the backseat of her dad's Prius before the Latina clears her throat. He turns his attention back to her. Sue him for getting distracted, she totally didn't miss that though. Fuck, she's never gonna let him live this down. Shit.

She's got that look on her face again, and it's freaking him out. "My house, 7. Everyone's gonna be there. And I'm relying on you for booze."

He's distracted again. This time by the car pulling out of the parking lot. What was Santana talking about again?

"Yeah, sure. Whatever." He says dismissively, not even sure what's going on.

She smirks at him and follows his line of vision, "Rachel's gonna be there."

What the hell is that supposed to mean to him? Like, he still thinks it's crazy that they're friends and everything. But why does it matter if Rachel's going? She clearly said everyone's going, which he assumed included Rachel. She didn't have to single her out.

She was already walking hand in hand with Brittany when he goes to say something to her.

Seriously, what's going on that he doesn't know about?

* * *

><p>He doesn't even know why the fuck he's here. Sure, he's got a light buzz but it's not nearly enough for him to be dealing with this party. Honestly.<p>

Half the people that are here he doesn't talk to. And the one's he does are keeping to themselves. Like, Tina and Mike left an hour ago. He's pretty sure Mercedes and Sam just got back together, again. For the thousandth fucking time since he's been back. God, that shit was getting old. Finn was too busy eating Quinn's face in the corner of the room...Fuck.

Where's Rachel?

He could've sworn she was here, like, two seconds ago. She was sipping from a can of soda near the back of the room. Shit.

There's some busty blonde Junior that's standing next to him and talking her mouth off (Doesn't that sound familiar? But it's not the same. Trust him.), and he's just really fucking annoyed right now.

With a quick nod, he pushes himself off the counter and pushing his way through the crowd of people in the kitchen. He grabs a beer and twists off the cap on the way out into the rest of the house.

He's been searching for five minutes and he still can't find her. Did she leave?

No. Her coat is still hanging on the rack near the front door. So, he breathes a little easier knowing that she's still here. Now he just has to find her.

He scans the crowd of people, taking a sip from the bottle in his hand when his eyes meet Santana's from across the room.

She knows what he's thinking. Well, asking. And she nods towards the back door before turning her attention back to Brittany.

Seriously, it's about fucking time for those too. And he's already threatened Santana about being her best man at the wedding. And he was afraid he was going to lose his balls that day for automatically assuming she would be the 'groom' at the wedding. All he did was give her a knowing look. He _knows_her, alright? Which is why he was expecting the mumbled Spanish under her breath as he walked away with a smug look on his. He's just that good.

She's outside on the deck when he slips out the back door, closing it quietly behind him.

She glances over her shoulder at the click, giving him a small smile.

He's not exactly sure when they became such good friends. If you asked him to guess, he'd say around the beginning of Junior year. They've sort of been there for each other since then. Even through the whole Shelby fiasco at the beginning of Senior year. (She didn't talk to him for two weeks. Worst two weeks of his life, hands down. He hated when she wasn't around.). And since her and Finn broke up, they've been on the verge of crossing a line that neither of them want to. Well, he's thought about it. But it's better if they didn't.

She's gonna be some kick ass star on Broadway and hell, he doesn't even know what the fuck he's gonna do once he gets to New York. He got into NYU, barely, but he got in. He just doesn't know what the hell he's gonna do once he gets there.

She still doesn't know. And he doesn't plan on telling her.

"Hey."

He walks over to stand next to her, leaning his forearms on the banister. He takes a sip from his beer and just looks out over the Lopez's backyard.

They're both silent. But it's not awkward or uncomfortable or anything. It's just, whatever.  
>"Wanna go somewhere?" He says before he even really thinks it through.<p>

She nods, though. So, he must not have said the wrong thing.

As he goes to dig his keys out of his pocket, Rachel stops him. He's not drunk. Buzzed, maybe, barely. But definitely not drunk.

He just rolls his eyes at her, finishing off the bottle before heading back inside with her behind him.

No one notices them entering the house together, except Santana. Fuck. She's got that look on her face, like she knows something he doesn't. He just shoots her a glare to be safe.

He's got his hand on the small of her back, weaving their way through the crowd of people towards the front door. It's, like, basically instinct so whatever. She's not saying anything to him, so he's not going to stop.

They walk out of Santana's house without a word to anyone. And frankly, he doesn't give a fuck.

He's not surprised when she heads for her car, following behind her without question.

It's not like he hasn't left his truck at Santana's house before, it practically has it's own parking spot in front of her house. He'll pick up tomorrow or something.

There's silence as she drives. She hasn't said a word to him so he's got no idea where they're going. Until she pulls into the parking lot of the school.

He looks over at her, brows furrowed in confusion but she's already climbing out of the driver's seat. Well, shit.

She's climbing the bleachers on the football field when he finally gets out of the car. He digs his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, heading in the same direction.

This is way too fucking weird for his liking. It's been two years since they've been here. Well, just them alone. They've both been here hundreds of times since then. But this is different.

He takes a seat next to her, turning his head to look at her. But she's not looking at him. She's got her eyes set on something across the field. They're thinking the same thing. He knows it.

_We were never friends before._

It's crazy how things have changed since then. They are friends. They've been friends for a while now. And part of him regrets saying that to her sophomore year because who knows what the hell would've happened if he didn't. Would things be different?

She's looking at him now. And it's the first time he can't tell what's on her mind. That scares him. He's always been able to have some sort of idea as to what's running through her head, but right now, he can't. Shit.

He kisses her. Because she's there and he can. Hell, it's because he wants to.

Why's he trying to kid himself? He's wanted to for a while.

When she pulls away she's got this little smile on her face, and it's fucking adorable. They way she tucks her hair behind her ears and he can tell she's blushing even though it's dark out. It's cute.

Wait. _What?_

He can't even register what the fuck he's feeling right now because she's grabbing his hand and tugging on it so he could stand up with her.

Their fingers lace together as she leads them back towards her car. It must be late. Because it's dark, really fucking dark.

So, she's probably got curfew or something so he's not gonna push it.

The drive is silent, again. But he doesn't mind. He sort of needs it. To, you know, figure out what the hell just happened on the bleachers.

Him and Rachel are _friends_. Last time he checked that was it.

Then why does he get this sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach when she pulls out of his driveway after dropping him off home? Because, fuck, he doesn't like it.

Something feels wrong.

He goes inside and heads upstairs. His mom and sister obviously asleep. So, he just slips into his bedroom with as little noise as possible.

He's laying in bed when his phone goes off.

Santana.

_You're welcome._

And just when he thought the girl couldn't get any fucking shadier.

He rolls his eyes and puts his phone back on his nightstand, leaving her text unanswered.

When he closes his eyes he still can't get the image of Rachel pulling out of his driveway.

He still can't figure out why the hell that's affecting him so much.

* * *

><p>He's across the street from her house almost two weeks later. He's doing his final pool cleaning job for the season. Actually, forever.<p>

He's leaving in two days. And there's no turning back.

He hasn't seen her since the night of Santana's party. They just haven't talked or anything. He doesn't really question it.

But he thinks he might want to stop over once he's done. You know, to say goodbye even though she has no idea it will be one. He still hasn't told anyone.

He's loading the last of his shit into his truck when he looks over and sees her dads setting stuff out on the curb. It's luggage, not garbage.

And then she walks outside with this huge ass smile on her face that reaches her eyes. It's been a while since he's seen that smile.

There's a taxi pulling up a few moments later and that's when it hits him.

She's leaving.

Her smile falters when their eyes meet. He doesn't have it in him to be pissed or anything, cause he was gonna do the exact same thing to her when he left.

He gives her a nod before closing the door to the bed of his truck.

The next time he looks up, the taxi's halfway down the road and the curb is empty.

Well, fuck.

She wasn't going to tell him. And he wasn't going to tell her either. So, they're even.

But it still fucking hurts to watch her drive away.

There's that familiar sinking feeling in his stomach again. And he doesn't fucking like it. At all.


End file.
